


If I Had A Gun

by Savageandwise



Category: Music RPF, Oasis (Band), Real Person Fiction
Genre: Angst, Blood and Injury, Gallaghercest | Liam Gallagher/Noel Gallagher Incest, M/M, Sexual Content, Sibling Incest, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-01
Updated: 2020-03-01
Packaged: 2021-02-19 04:28:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,501
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22971973
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Savageandwise/pseuds/Savageandwise
Summary: Noel and Liam break a hotel room and each other. This is normal behaviour for rock star brothers, right?
Relationships: Liam Gallagher/Noel Gallagher
Comments: 23
Kudos: 65





	If I Had A Gun

**Author's Note:**

> Trigger warning.
> 
> I've tagged it. It's explicit incest. Don't bother reading if it's going to gross you out. Don't bother telling me I'm going to hell. I know.
> 
> The story about me and Gallaghercest is I've been joking about writing a fic for well over a year. Ever since I told a non fandom friend who is incidentally, male, straight, a musician and Northern about my primary fandom: Mclennon. His comment was he could see it. It wouldn't shock him if it ever came out John and Paul were lovers. Then he added that he always felt the Gallagher brothers had a pretty intense relationship and that he thought Liam was Noel's muse and that Wonderwall was about Liam. So okay. Maybe he wasn't talking about actual incest but my brain went there.
> 
> It had never occurred to me before. I was mad about Oasis when wonderwall came out . I remember I was driving in the car with my former stepmother and the song came on the radio. I remember it felt like the world stopped for a moment. The guitar. Liam's nasal, defiant voice. The line: I don't believe that anybody feels the way I do about you now.  
> I had never heard such an angry love song, it blew my mind. I wasn't an obsessive Oasis fan as a teenager but i liked them a lot. I had a unibrow and it was comforting to know you could be cool and have one. But I have to say I have often felt that line in Wonderwall helped me form my perspectives on relationships in a weird way.
> 
> I always intended to write a fic and what better time to do it then after seeing Liam Gallagher live? inspired, I thought it would be angry hate sex crack right up to the moment when I started typing the story into my phone. After a bit of research I found myself falling down the rabbit hole. Who knows what really went down but the details of their relationship certainly raise plenty of questions. That's catnip to me. Here's my angry love song to the Gallaghers.
> 
> Please comment! Be gentle it's my first Oasis fic!

It's like they invented their own language. No one can follow them half the time. Of course they don't need words in times like this. One flick of the wrist, Liam doesn't even hold up two fingers, just the suggestion is enough, and Noel's like a bull before a red cloth; he knows what Liam's thinking before he speaks. It's called a muleta, that red cloth on a stick the matador uses in that final act of the bullfight. The cloth the matador uses right before he slays the poor beast. They learned that in Spain. _Vaya a la porra._ They learned that in Spain, too. Alright, they didn't learn it in Spain. They learned it from a TV documentary and a Columbian groupie, respectively.

"Go fuck yourself, you fucking dickhead," Noel says and turns away. It's not quite the right translation but it's the best he can do under the circumstances.

That's Liam's muleta. He takes two steps forward and grasps Noel's elbow. 

"Walk away from me," he spits. "Go on, then."

Noel shakes free, strides angrily towards the door of the hotel room. Glass shards crunch beneath his trainers. There's glass everywhere. The first thing Liam did was smash every glass and beer bottle on the table. Then he smashed the bottle of whiskey. Five minutes later Noel had to stop him getting down on his knees and licking the booze off the floor. He couldn't even remember breaking it.

The way Noel saw it, if he ate glass, it would fuck his voice. Couldn't have that, could we? Then he threw an ashtray into the fucking television set right in the middle of MTV's _Alternative Nation_ or something similar. There's an art to trashing a hotel room. They're old hands at it, going down in history with the likes of Keith Moon. They've got a lifelong ban from the Columbia Hotel in London and a handful of other places. Some windows are just waiting for someone to come along and toss a television through them.

Noel can't even remember what they're fighting about this time. Or if it's even a real fight. Maybe they're just posturing even though they're alone. Posturing for each other. Usually they like an audience. They snorted coke and drank and talked until they were too exhausted to carry on a proper conversation. Then they started screaming at each other. Then they started breaking things. Fighting with Liam makes him forget he's given up acting like a prick. In public, anyway. Makes him forget he's meant to be the sensible one. He'd sworn to himself he'd never lift a finger to contribute to their hooligan reputation, but a few minutes with Liam makes him flush all his good intentions down the bog. Fighting is their default setting. They learned it at an early age from their parents. Noel had it worse than Liam, Liam's the baby. If he's honest with himself he feels protective and resentful of him in equal measure. It's a vicious circle.

"Fucking control freak. You're nothing without me, right? Nothing," Liam's saying, he stabs a thumb at his chest to illustrate. Like that'll make me stay now, Noel thinks, amused and annoyed.

He's a spoiled brat, that's what Liam is. And maybe that's partly his own fault. He doesn't know how good he has it. Noel's been doing the heavy lifting his whole fucking life. Liam just shows up, makes a scene, says something inappropriate and the world's eating out his hand. He admires that too, though. That's the problem.

He makes it to the door, opens it a crack before Liam grabs him by the scruff of the neck and slams it shut.

"I'm not fucking finished with you!" Liam roars.

They're never finished, that's the bigger problem. Even those times he does manage to storm out of the room and onto the street he can't quite escape his brother. Liam's like an infected tooth. Even if he has it pulled, the hole remains to remind him of it. 

Liam's hand is still on his neck. Gentle at first, and then he squeezes harder, wraps both hands around his throat. His eyes are trained on Noel's face, that childish light in them. Like he's testing to see if Noel will cry uncle. He always has to piss all over their boundaries. Noel shuts his eyes and counts to three in his head. He drops his arm, uncurling his fist. His body still remembers how to protect itself from physical abuse even though he's tried to put the whole sorry past with Dad behind him. He's like an animal playing dead. Liam is standing so close that were he to open his eyes he would see the pores in his skin, he would see the tiny cracks in his chapped lips. The full bottom lip, that permanent curl of disdain. He makes him sick. No one else in the world can make him this angry this fast. He forces his eyes open and looks straight at his brother's face. Liam lets him go at once, as if bitten.

"You a hard fucker?" Noel asks. "You gonna murder me? Choke me? Smash me head in? You're a hard fucker, just like him." He's so angry he can't seem to stop the words. That's how he gets with Liam, he's likely to say something he regrets. Not that he'd ever admit it.

"Calm down!" Liam protests. "Barely even touched you."

"Barely touched me? You barely touched me?" Noel shouts. "You're cracked!"

Liam puts a hand on his arm but Noel shakes it off, twists free, tries to knee Liam in the balls. He loses his balance and knocks them both to the floor. He's stretched out on top of him, struggling to get one good punch in, and Liam looks like he's enjoying himself. His fist connects with Liam's mouth, his knuckles scraping tooth. Liam's laughing so hard he can't get his breath. What's he laughing for? Mad fucker. Is it a game to him? Doesn't he understand this is life and death? It's always life and death for him where Liam is concerned.

He gives himself a lot of credit for showing restraint, but the truth is he's as bad as Liam when they really get going. He's the one who went too far, brought that cricket bat down over Liam's thick skull with a sickening thud at Rockfield only months ago. Or was it weeks? He's not sticking around to see how far Liam can go this time.

"I mean it this time. I mean it," Noel says weakly, struggling away from his brother, backing into the door on his hands and knees. A glass shard stabs him in the heel of his palm, it's just there, jutting out of his skin but he can barely feel the pain.

"Sure you do, sure. Sure, go on then," Liam wheezes and wipes the blood from his lip on his sleeve.

"It's the end," Noel insists. "I said it's the end so it's the end."

"It can't be the end. It's not okay, right?" Liam says. "So it isn't the end."

Noel rolls his eyes. "Oh, shut the fuck up. Shut up. Shut up. You fucking Lennon wannabe. You wouldn't even fucking know about him if it weren't for me. You wouldn't know nothing!" 

"I'd know enough, right? I'd know everything that's good about you is me."

Liam stands and then holds out his hand to help Noel up, shakes it impatiently. Noel grasps it hard, the glass cuts deep into both of their palms. Liam curses and pulls away, examines the cut and then shrugs. They're already blood brothers. That's what he's thinking. Liam leans in, takes Noel's face between his hands, leers at him like a madman.

"Anyway, fuck this. You love me." Liam flutters his eyelashes like a tart. "I'm your brother. Fucking say it."

Noel can feel a bit of spittle land on his face when Liam speaks. He twists out of his brother's grasp but he's backed against the door, the handle digging into his back. A rush of emotion floods him, fills his lungs, drowning him on dry land.

"I hate you," Noel says, instead. "I hate you. You know that?"

 _Hateyouhateyouhateyou._ It pours out of him like a mantra. And he means it more than he's ever meant it, he's not even sure what set him off. Liam hits him in the gut and he startles, crumples, lashes out and manages to kick him in the shin.

"The best you can do?" Liam gasps. "Lost your touch, eh?"

Noel pulls back his arm to hit his brother, imagines punching him in the fucking throat. He blinks once, the vividness of the fantasy so Technicolor he shivers with it. It gets him hard, that's how intense it is. Liam just stares at him with his mouth hanging open like he's read his mind and can't believe it. He looks like he's going to cry.

"You gonna blub like a baby now?" Noel asks cruelly.

Liam rushes at him, roaring like a hurt animal, like this was the push he needed to snap. There is a boundary and Noel crossed it. Liam collapses against Noel abruptly, buries his face in the space where his neck and shoulder meet. He can feel the damp of Liam's blood or spit soaking into his shirt. He shifts his shoulder slightly and feels Liam's mouth hot against his neck. He balls his fists in Noel's shirt and pulls him closer. For once he's baffled by Liam's behaviour. Is he sobbing into his collar like some heartsick woman? Still testing boundaries? Does he know how this affects him? Is that why?

Liam slides his thigh between Noel's legs, lets out a wet sigh. He feels Liam's tongue tracing the line of his shoulder over the fabric of his shirt. Noel's mouth goes bone-dry all at once. He's backed against the door with nowhere to escape to and his brother slobbering all over him. 

"Hey, man," Noel says cautiously, angling Liam away from him gently so he can't feel Noel's dick hard against his leg. 

Liam has seen him erect before, when they shared a room, even felt it on stage, turned on by the shriek of fans, the lights and the coke; when Liam reached over in full view of thousands of people and groped him possessively. That sort of thing didn't mean anything. They'd already discarded the last vestiges of their shame. This is different. He doesn't have an excuse for this. How can he explain the rush he feels? What it is to love, to hate so intensely that he's ready to come in his pants?

Liam pulls away and looks at him bleary-eyed and red-faced. He looks down at Noel's hand and turns it over, palm up, lets out a hiss of sympathy.

"Leave it," Noel says, his voice so thick his words come out garbled.

Liam ignores him, eases the glass shard from his palm carefully and drops it on the floor. Blood wells from the jagged hole it leaves behind.

"You're alright," Liam murmurs, his tone frighteningly tender.

"Fuck," Noel breathes as Liam bows his head to examine the wound.

He puts the tip of his tongue between the lips of the shallow cut like he's about to fuck it for the first time, licks the blood from Noel's skin. Noel's dizzy with disgust and sickening desire. Liam pauses a moment, smiles in what he probably assumes is a reassuring manner, and then pulls his T-shirt over his head. Noel's breath catches in his throat, he keeps his eyes trained on Liam's chest as he wraps the thin cotton garment around his hand. 

"Tight as you can," Liam instructs him, pressing his fingers closed over the makeshift bandage. "Tight."

He feels so exhausted. So exhausted of trying to be the sensible one. He's tired of fighting with himself. Noel looks down at Liam's hands wrapped around his, his fingers stained with his blood. His lips are red, too, like he's been eating strawberries. And when Noel puts his mouth on his brother's, he tastes his own blood. 

Liam lets out a nervous laugh. He's thinking it's not just a kiss, it's an olive branch, and he's probably wondering why he didn't have to work harder for it. They've kissed on the mouth so many times Noel has lost count. In private, on camera. It doesn't mean anything. Some people kiss on the lips. Yes, even brothers. It's not a big deal. Except that it is. Except he fucking likes it. He likes it every time Liam grabs him and plants a sloppy one on him, every time he pinches his nipples on stage. He fucking craves it. And when it happens it takes him ages to stop feeling like someone's turned a light on inside him every time he looks at Liam. This is what he wants in his secret heart, more than fame, more than money, more than anything.

Noel takes a step closer, grips his chin in his good hand and kisses him again, harder this time, like he's staking a claim, in case he misunderstands Noel's intentions. Liam doesn't laugh this time. He opens his mouth wider and lets Noel slide his tongue against his, his breath coming faster, his naked chest shuddering slightly. He tilts his hips against Noel's and rubs against him and they're both so hard it's mental.

"I knew it," Liam says, running his fingernails over the outline of Noel's erection. There isn't a drop of smugness in Liam's voice. He's just stating a fact. "I knew it," he says again. 

He rubs himself against Noel a little too fast, a little too hard. There's a strange edge of frantic excitement to his jerky movements, like one of those groupies who's eager to please but worried she's only got a few minutes with him. Except it's Liam. It feels like his head is going to explode. 

When Noel pushes Liam away slightly, he whines. It's the very sound he used to make when he was a kid and Mam told him it was time for bed. He looks a bit angry, Liam does, and kisses him hard, like he's punishing him. He puts his hand on Liam's chest and sighs into his mouth.

"Come on," Liam urges him. 

When Noel looks up his brother's eyes are screwed shut. He has the strangest expression on his face like he's praying for a miracle. He reaches for the buttons on Noel's fly, undoes one and then another. Noel sucks in his breath and holds it. 

"You don't get to have everything just cause you want it," he said to Liam once during a massive row. 

"Why not?" had been Liam's answer.

Liam takes Noel's good hand and places it against his own dick. "You want it," he says. His voice is thin, tinged with a desperation that sends a flurry of sparks dancing over Noel's skin. 

"You don't know owt," Noel says.

"I know you want it," Liam says stubbornly. "Cause I do." He says it so matter-of-factly as if it should be obvious they would want the same thing.

Who does this? Who wants this? Noel tries to imagine leaving now. He doesn't even know whose room this is, where his passport is. Hell, he's not sure what city he's in. He knows Liam's managed to get his fly open now and his hand into his underpants, he's got his hand wrapped around his cock and all Noel wants is for this to never end so he never has to face the consequences, just to know this pleasure till his heart gives out.

"Come on," Noel says and pulls him into the next room. 

The bed is mercifully untouched. There's a suitcase open on the floor and at a glance he can tell it's Liam's. Shoes and jeans and cartons of cigarettes are all spilling out of it. They stand at the foot of the bed, just staring at the crisp white hotel sheets for a moment like they're both just realising the gravity of the whole situation. They get in the bed side by side, not touching each other, just lying there. Noel's whole body is singing with desire like a guitar string that's been wound to the snapping point. They lie there so long in silence he starts to wonder if Liam's fallen asleep.

"You change your mind?" he asks.

Liam turns over to face him. "You change yours?”

He's had to be the sensible one all the time. Relatively speaking. With a brother like Liam someone has to be. You don't get to have everything, Noel reminds himself. You already have more than most. You can't have this. 

"Look, mate..." Liam begins, he's got that tone he gets when he's just about to launch into an argument.

Just before the flood of reasoning begins, Noel rolls over on top of Liam abruptly, presses him into the mattress. He's done talking. Liam gasps in his ear, shock and arousal and relief, and he finds his mouth blindly, kisses him slowly and possessively because he's made his mind up so he might as well. 

Liam pulls Noel's shirt over his head and gets to work on his jeans. Suddenly impatient, Noel kicks off his trainers and wriggles out of his trousers. Dressed only in his boxers and socks, he straddles his brother, runs his nails up Liam's sides like he used to when they were just kids and he was about to tickle him. He lifts Liam's long arms over his head and pins them in place at the wrists. Kisses him again and again, his chest and his neck and his stupid mouth. Liam's making soft choking noises like he likes it but he's trying not to be too obvious. His eyes are half closed, his long lashes fluttering. Noel reaches down to open his belt and Liam starts to pant like he's hyperventilating. His hand is clumsy with the T-shirt wrapped around it and it seems to take forever to open Liam's jeans and pull them off. He pulls off Liam's shoes as well and his socks. He's got a small hole in one of them and Noel can't help but laugh at the sight. He slides his hand over Liam's long toes and up his thighs and under his boxers, cups his balls. And he thinks all this is his. More than any lover has ever been. More than anyone else in the world except himself.

He slides up Liam's body, moves his lips silently over his skin. _Mine_ , he mouths over and over, like a prayer.

"What?" Liam gasps.

"Nothing," Noel says.

Liam's hand is on his hip, tracing the bones there under the elastic waistband of his boxers. His touch is so gentle, almost cautious, the way you'd pet an animal you're afraid might bite your hand off. Then he runs his hand over Noel's cock, slides his thumb over the slick head. He lets out a soft, shivery sigh and strokes Noel once experimentally. Of course, Noel thinks, Liam's only ever done this to himself as far as he knows. Noel's done it before but not like this.

"Why don't you…?" Noel begins.

Liam pushes Noel's boxers down before he can finish the sentence.

"Yeah," he murmurs. "Yeah, yeah." 

Liam slides his own underpants down, kicks them past his ankles and then they're naked together. Cock against cock, hard and leaking come. He can smell it, the stink of lust. It reminds him of the room they shared as boys. He puts his face against Liam's armpit, inhales deeply, burrows his nose into the damp hair there. He smells like sweat and musk, he smells as familiar as Noel himself. Noel slides his tongue against the nest of hair, licks it in broad strokes like he's grooming him. Liam twitches, laughs breathlessly.

"Tickles," he murmurs.

He's got hold of Noel's dick again, grips it the way he holds a mic, firmly and with purpose. He finds the right rhythm almost immediately, instinctively, and before long Noel is thrusting into Liam's fist. He clings to him, his mouth pressed to Liam's long neck, he kisses him, teeth bared and sucks the delicate flesh until Liam cries out.

Noel pulls away at once. "I'm sorry," he stutters hastily.

He doesn't even know what he's fucking sorry for. He's done worse things than leave him a love bite.

But Liam, cursing, pulls him back into his arms roughly. "Come here you cunt, I'm still not finished with you." 

Despite the words there's a sweetness to Liam's tone that startles Noel. He lasts about a second after that. He comes all over Liam's fist so hard he goes blind for a moment. There's a ringing in his ears that blocks everything else out but the thought that this was Liam, Liam did this to him. Of course he did.

When he catches his breath and comes back from that post orgasmic pocket, Liam is curled against him, pressing himself into his hip, his little shallow breaths tickling Noel's ear. He remembers when they were lads and he'd fall asleep to the sound of Liam's breath smothered in his pillow as he pressed into his mattress in the next bed over, his skinny shoulders quivering as he came.

He puts his mouth on Liam's stomach, blows a raspberry like they're still kids, and then leans down and licks him from balls to leaking tip. His come is bitter, it numbs Noel's tongue a bit. He's never tasted another man's spunk. He's never even tasted his own. He's never imagined sucking another man's dick. That's not really true, is it? If he's very honest with himself, it's not true at all. He's wanted this for so long he can't remember when it started. Maybe it was always there in some form or another. He wants to now, wants to feel his brother squirm, to draw it out until he's going out of his mind and then make him beg for it.

"What are you…?" Liam says, he sounds a bit shell-shocked.

"What do you think?" Noel asks and promptly takes his brother's cock in his mouth.

It isn't too difficult once he figures out he has to breathe through his nose. He likes the feeling of Liam in his mouth, the taste of him, the smell of his skin and the coarseness of his pubic hair. Sometimes when he's very wasted indeed, more wasted than this, he thinks about how very close they are. That there's no one on the planet who knows him like Liam does, no one he knows as well as Liam. He sometimes wishes they were one person rather than two. How much simpler that would be with his songwriting skills and Liam's looks and voice. How much simpler to control him. He dreams of sliding together and being one. This is the closest it's ever come to that unity, that control. He steals a quick look upwards and just manages to catch the expression on Liam's face: ecstatic, raw and so vulnerable it makes his chest ache. He's beautiful, that's what he is. Beautiful as a wild animal.

Liam puts his hands on Noel's head, holding him in place, his fingers still slick with Noel's come. He whines a little, angles his hips and thrusts into Noel's mouth, so far in that he can't help gagging a bit and grabs hold of Liam's hips to restrain him. He slides his mouth all the way up and sucks the sensitive head. Liam's grip on his hair is painful and exquisite, a wordless proclamation of how much he needs him. Noel can feel how close he is, like an electric current running through him. He holds back for a moment, letting the current wash over him. He watches Liam arch his back, the tense lines of his long, pale body bunching and flowing as he writhes.

"You're a fucking tease, aren't you?" Liam groans, nudges the head of his cock against Noel's lips frantically.

Noel grins, waits a pregnant beat before sliding his mouth back over Liam's cock, deep as he can take it. Liam cries out, his words a mix of begging and curses. Just one more stroke until he falls apart. And just when Noel's ready to feel the rush of Liam's come, warm and bitter in his mouth, he wrenches his hips from Noel's grasp and pulls out abruptly, shoots all over Noel's upturned face. 

Noel screws his eyes shut and shudders, disgusted, irritated and exhilarated all at once.

"Fucking hell, man!" he exclaims, running the back of his hand over his eyes. 

Liam stares at him open-mouthed for a moment, his expression beatific. He leans in to run his thumb over Noel's sullied lips and then he starts cackling like a madman.

"You should be on the cover of Rolling Stone, mate," Liam laughs, holding his hands up to frame Noel's face. "Just so."

Noel lunges forward and reaches for him and Liam scrambles away from him to the far corner of the bed, drawing his long legs up and hiding his face behind his knees. 

"Come here, you...disgusting...come here!" Noel says, pulling Liam by the ankles and climbing on top of him, grabs hold of one ear like he's punishing an unruly child. "You're disgusting, is what you are."

A ripple of insecurity flickers over Liam's face for a split second. Noel leans in and rubs his sticky face against Liam's like a cat. "How do you like that? You like it?"

Liam's nodding, grinning his stupid grin. "Yeah, yeah, I do. I love it."

Noel runs his tongue over his upper lip, makes a show of swallowing. Liam shivers a bit at the sight.

"Tastes good, eh? Girls tell me all the time, y'know," he blusters.

"Yeah?" Noel asks, rolling his eyes.

"Yeah," Liam says. "They do."

"They have no idea, the dumb slags."

Noel wipes the rest off his face with his good hand, smears some spunk in Liam's hair like he's styling it. Liam lies perfectly still, letting him. Then he kisses him soft on the lips and then again, open-mouthed and greedy. Liam wraps his legs around Noel and holds him in place.

After a while Liam rolls him to one side and rests his head on his elbow, gazing at Noel through his thick lashes. Noel unwraps his injured hand. The bleeding has stopped and the cut isn't too deep. He flexes his hand experimentally, wonders if it'll affect his playing.

"You should clean it. Proper disinfectant," Liam says.

Noel shrugs. He lies on his back and runs his hand over his naked body, streaked with their blood and come.

"Like a work of art," Liam says with a smirk. "Give us a pen and I'll sign you."

Noel feels dirty in a good way.

**Author's Note:**

> Honestly. At this point after 66 stories about John and Paul's sex life I'm not embarrassed any more. This fic took me almost exactly a week to write. I haven't slept much and I've basically been living and breathing Gallaghers. Sorry for everyone who had to listen to me go on and on about Liam's dumb face.
> 
> Thank you to Twinka for betaing the shit out of this. And encouraging me and just being the best , best ever. Love, love, love.
> 
> Thanks for the cheerleading, you know who you are... !
> 
> I did a bunch of research to write this but mostly I listened to interviews and stared at that photo of the Loch Lomond kiss...
> 
> Also listened to the song I stole the title from like 200 times.


End file.
